The best-laid plans, which is a recurring title.
Plan: I will go into town, it will be nice, I will buy Vaseline and Setsubun stuff and popcorn and rose dye for my hair and I will type up my writing and have a wander around.
Reality: I will go into town, it will rain constantly, Boots will have neither Vaseline nor rose dye for some reason, Whole Foods won't stock the popcorn I want (and neither will ANYWHERE ELSE) but I will be reduced to panic-buying a fucking protein bar because I'm about to faint because I forgot to eat the thing I was meant to eat before I left the house, the Setsubun stuff in the Japan Centre will have all sold out so I'll just binge-buy random nonsense and eat seaweed snacks in the street, I will be too wound up to enjoy wandering anyway and in a constant state of paranoid/panicky crisis about nothing in particular; I WILL actually manage to type up what I've written but I will hate every word of it and spend all day feeling ugly and stupid, I will find the Vaseline and hair dye in a different chemist but then after a lot of faff in the evening won't leave the hair dye on for long enough so I will be left with a crappy salmon/peach colour and need to dye it all over again (fortunately the bottle was on two-for-one); it will be dark early and raining and I will wander aimlessly around shops with aching legs as I try to avoid admitting defeat and going home.
At least I made an interesting dinner to make up for it.
Today I woke up feeling fairly opposed to the idea of going to the gym and facing the 20 minute unbroken run that C-2-5k has scheduled for me, but once I'd had breakfast and tea in bed I was a little more determined and all it took was a healthy "if you don't do this you've FAILED WEEK FIVE" to get me to move; after ten minutes it actually got a lot easier so there's me, completing the first unbroken 20 minute run in probably my entire fucking life. Other first: successfully did 20kg on the shoulder press, and used the weird-ass hanging thing do to do hanging leg raises which are absolute murder. Am now thoroughly fucking mutilated. And going to Duckie tonight come hell, high water global rise of fascism, bad hair, failure of my fucking vest to show up when I wanted it, or anything else. Cinderella SHALL go and fondle some balls.
(I also got an email from my gym congratulating me on going for a solid month, so that's... something. Here is a graph of my attendance in minutes:
)
Reality: I will go into town, it will rain constantly, Boots will have neither Vaseline nor rose dye for some reason, Whole Foods won't stock the popcorn I want (and neither will ANYWHERE ELSE) but I will be reduced to panic-buying a fucking protein bar because I'm about to faint because I forgot to eat the thing I was meant to eat before I left the house, the Setsubun stuff in the Japan Centre will have all sold out so I'll just binge-buy random nonsense and eat seaweed snacks in the street, I will be too wound up to enjoy wandering anyway and in a constant state of paranoid/panicky crisis about nothing in particular; I WILL actually manage to type up what I've written but I will hate every word of it and spend all day feeling ugly and stupid, I will find the Vaseline and hair dye in a different chemist but then after a lot of faff in the evening won't leave the hair dye on for long enough so I will be left with a crappy salmon/peach colour and need to dye it all over again (fortunately the bottle was on two-for-one); it will be dark early and raining and I will wander aimlessly around shops with aching legs as I try to avoid admitting defeat and going home.
At least I made an interesting dinner to make up for it.
Today I woke up feeling fairly opposed to the idea of going to the gym and facing the 20 minute unbroken run that C-2-5k has scheduled for me, but once I'd had breakfast and tea in bed I was a little more determined and all it took was a healthy "if you don't do this you've FAILED WEEK FIVE" to get me to move; after ten minutes it actually got a lot easier so there's me, completing the first unbroken 20 minute run in probably my entire fucking life. Other first: successfully did 20kg on the shoulder press, and used the weird-ass hanging thing do to do hanging leg raises which are absolute murder. Am now thoroughly fucking mutilated. And going to Duckie tonight come hell, high water global rise of fascism, bad hair, failure of my fucking vest to show up when I wanted it, or anything else. Cinderella SHALL go and fondle some balls.
(I also got an email from my gym congratulating me on going for a solid month, so that's... something. Here is a graph of my attendance in minutes:
)